Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(42)

“No one’s horse was actually stolen,” Levi Hershberger stated, sipping his coffee and grimacing at the heat. He stroked his beard. Heads shook back and forth.

“No one had any horses taken in this community,” Alvin Wenger agreed.

Men nodded, drank coffee.

“How about that Simon down at the feed mill? Isn’t he the character?”

There were chuckles all around.

“But you couldn’t find a guy with a bigger heart. He’d do anything for anyone. Remember the first winter we were here? How many driveways did he open that year? Not a penny would he take,” Alvin said, reaching for a cookie.

“Elsie baked him many a pie that winter.”

Calvin Yutzy, a young man with a louder than normal voice, chimed in. “Yeah, you know what he says now? He says those wild horses could have caused that accident. He claims they’re running loose up there on Sloam’s Ridge.”

“Nah!”

“Sounds just like him.”

“I know, but if there’s a stallion, and he’s territorial, a buggy at night…”

Sadie was listening half-heartedly, laying her head against the cushioned back of the recliner, willing herself to keep the weariness at bay.

If there’s a stallion…

He was black! He was so large.

Why did she know this?

She sat up, her mouth dry, her breath coming in short jerks. Somewhere, she had seen that black horse. She knew he was powerful. He was dangerous. How did she know?

She remembered Captain, that faithful, dutiful creature. She remembered his loyalty that night.

It would have been too bold to break in on the men’s conversation, so Sadie sat up and listened, her face pale, her heart hammering, every nerve aware of what the men were saying.

“I dunno.”

“Sounds a bit far-out.”

Calvin leaned forward, his excitement lending more power to his voice, “A stallion will kill another horse if he’s protecting his mares.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that,” Levi shook his head.

“In books, maybe,” old Eli Miller said, smiling, his eyes twinkling.

“All I’m saying is, it could have happened the way Simon said. What else caused that buggy to go down over?”

Sadie put down the footrest of the brown recliner. Instantly Mam was on her feet, going to her, reaching out like a nervous little hen always expecting the worst. Frankly, this drove Sadie’s endurance and patience to the limit.

“I’m all right, Mam. Just go sit down.”

The men’s conversation slowed, then stopped as heads turned to look.

No doubt about it, Jacob’s Sadie was a beautiful girl. Almost too beautiful—if there was such a thing. No one meant to stare, but they did just for a moment, perhaps. Beauty was appreciated among them.

It was God-given, this thing called beauty. A face in perfect symmetry with large, blue eyes, a small, straight nose, clear complexion, and a smile that dazzled was appreciated and admired. Who could help it?

But the women knew that beauty could be a curse as well. The girl may become completely self-absorbed, loving only herself. She may turn down many suitors, because she could marry anyone she wished. Plain girls, on the other hand, knew they were fortunate to be “asked,” and they made good wives—thankful, obedient, loving to their husbands, glad to be married.

This mostly held out, but not always.

Most admitted that Sadie Miller was a mystery. She was soon of age—nearly at that 21st birthday when she would be allowed to keep her money and everything she earned. She could open a savings account at the local bank and be on her own financially, although still living with her parents.

When a girl like Sadie turned 21, eyebrows rose. Knowing she was past the age when girls dated and were betrothed, everyone wondered why she was not.

She must be too picky, they thought.

Independent, that one, they said.

She has it too nice with that good job down at the ranch. I wouldn’t let my girls work there. Mark my words, she’ll fall for an “English one.”

No, not her, they said.

And now Ezra was gone, so what would Sadie do?

Sadie reached out to the arm of the recliner to steady herself. She lifted blue eyes to the men and addressed them quietly.

“I … was listening to your conversation. And…,” she hesitated and then shook her head.

Everyone waited, the room hushed.

“You know I don’t remember much, if anything, about the night the … the … buggy … you know. Well, you mentioned the wild horses.”

Suddenly she sat up straight and began to talk.

“That night, there was a huge, black horse. I don’t know why I remember this. I don’t really. All I know is that a really big, black horse was running beside the buggy. I could have reached out and touched him. He was so powerful, so wild-eyed, and angry. Like the devil. He reminded me of an evil force in the Bible story book when I was a child.

“And I remember, or I think so… I remember Captain, Ezra’s horse, trying so hard. He was so loyal. Oh, he was running—running so desperately.”

The men leaned forward. Coffee cups were set on the table, forgotten. Sadie fought her emotions, her chest heaving. Mam came to her side, her hands fluttering like a helpless bird.